What was so remarkable about being rich, this despicable little man? She had money too — so why hadn't she thought to sign a contract with Chef Fang?
Because Chef Fang had been brought in by her grandmother, Yunxi had never imagined he would betray her and crawl up to Qi Rong. The thought made her sick with regret; she could have kicked herself a hundred times over.
She marched over to Qi Rong’s courtyard, mentally berating him from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes the whole way. He was sitting calmly at the dining table, ready to eat. When he saw her, a smile spread across his face.
“You’re here. Come, eat.”
Yunxi strode in furious, all set to unleash the torrent of complaints she’d been holding back. But then she stopped dead. The table was piled with delicacies — the aroma practically drowned her with longing. Her eyes widened; she almost forgot why she’d come.
She swallowed hard, fighting the sudden flood of saliva, and wiped her mouth with a stiff-lipped glare. Standing above him, she fixed Qi Rong with a look of scorn.
“You preach thrift,” she snapped. “How can you have so many dishes? Aren’t you afraid people will say you waste food?”
The spread in front of her smelled intoxicating, and Yunxi’s temper flared at the hypocrisy. Qi Rong was the sort who would let officials burn houses but forbid the common folk to light lamps. Surely these new rules were aimed at her.
Staying to eat at Yu Zhu’s place would only bring trouble to Yu Zhu — she couldn’t afford that.
“It’s my rule in the residence,” Qi Rong said, amused by her indignation, the corner of his mouth curled in a teasing smile. “Who dares object to my decisions?”
He was enjoying her puffed-up expression. She wanted to avoid him, and yet here she was, showing up at his door — exactly as he’d hoped. The experiment had worked better than he’d expected.
Yunxi clenched her jaw until the muscles ached. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off his face, give him two good black eyes and see how he liked being proud then.
Her stomach, however, had other ideas — it betrayed her with a loud, obvious rumble.
“What’s that sound? Did you hear that? It’s so loud!”
Heat rose to Yunxi’s cheeks. Qi Rong, taking pleasure, pretended not to understand.
“Don’t play dumb,” she snapped.
She hated him in every way — despicable and graceless, making a lady of breeding like her look awkward. The teasing had become a guilty pleasure for him, but seeing her wither was too much of a risk; he didn’t want her to go hungry. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down into the chair beside him, handed her a pair of chopsticks and said softly, “Eat. I had Chef Fang prepare specialties from Jiangcheng. Have some with me.”
Jiangcheng was her maternal family’s home; she’d spent much of her childhood there and favored its flavors. Qi Rong knew that and had arranged this as a peace offering, a clumsy attempt to end their fight. She had been avoiding him so much lately that he was close to losing his patience. If she kept pushing him away, he was afraid he might lose control.
Yunxi pressed her lips together, fighting the hunger by forcing her head aside. She put on airs. “A woman of dignity does not eat offered charity,” she declared. “I have my pride.”
He expected that a meal would wipe the slate clean? That one gesture would erase everything? Ridiculous. Yunxi was not someone you could placate with a single dinner.
Qi Rong watched her — torn between resistance and desire — with a pleased look that bordered on indulgence. He offered her a way out with a sly suggestion. “Fine. You feed me, then. If you feed me, the meal doesn’t count as charity.”
She stared, incredulous. You’ve got to be joking, she thought. “Do you not have hands of your own?”
He shrugged, mock helpless. “You said you don’t eat charity. I’m only taking you at your word.”
Qi Rong’s dark eyes danced with amusement as he watched her struggle with herself. He barely moved, merely pressing his finger to his lips to keep from laughing.
“All right,” she said at last, surrendering to the hunger. “I’ll feed you — just this once.”
Once Yunxi picked up her chopsticks, she attacked the task with exaggerated fervor, stuffing food into his mouth as if trying to catch him out. She hoped to see him choke or beg for mercy. But Qi Rong ate calmly, composed — even praising her for being so attentive, saying she must like him very much to pick all his favorites.
The platitudes made Yunxi’s teeth ache; she rolled her eyes so hard they might fall out. No matter how fast she fed him, he simply wouldn’t stop eating.
Spying a slice of ginger among the condiments, she had a sudden idea. She lifted it and aimed it at his mouth, thinking he wouldn’t notice. A faint, triumphant smile crept over her face.
Instead, Qi Rong’s hand flashed out. He captured her wrist, turned it, and said, “Don’t just feed me — you should eat something too, to line your stomach.”
Before she could react, he shoved the ginger into her mouth. She gasped in surprise and bit down.
The sharp heat exploded across her tongue, searing and sudden. Her face flushed; her eyes watered. She spat the ginger out in a coughing, sputtering mess.
“Good?” Qi Rong leaned in, grinning.
“Do you know how much I hate ginger?” she choked, grabbing the bowl of ribs soup and guzzling it to wash away the burn, glaring daggers at him. “Why'd you take him? Why steal my man?”
Qi Rong answered with devilish calm. “Steal? I’m his husband; supporting my wife is my duty. Are you going to make you pay to keep Chef Fang in Prince Xian’s kitchen? What would become of my face?”
He delivered the line as if it were perfectly reasonable, and for a moment Yunxi had no reply.
“Besides,” he added, pulling her into his arms with a bold motion, “are we dividing what’s ours now? Even I belong to you.”
His smile turned intimate, and a chill ran down Yunxi’s spine. She flinched and tried to shove his face away. “Stop that smile. It spoils my appetite.”
She pushed, utterly disgusted — and secretly, a little rattled by how easily he could draw that reaction from her.